two creams one sugar
by TheAsterousAuthor
Summary: She's 100% sure that he's picking the wrong names now just to get under her skin (there's no way he can mistake "Kirsten" for "Pork Chop"), but dammit the little smirk he just sent her way when she read it has to be just about the most adorable thing in the world- wait, what? coffee shop/college Camsten au. rated T for some (mental) swearing. ONESHOT.


**title:** two creams one sugar

 **words:** 3000ish

 **pairing:** camsten (Kirsten/Cameron)

 **summary:** She's 100% sure that he's picking the wrong names now just to get under her skin (there's no way he can mistake "Kirsten" for "Pork Chop"), but _dammit_ the little smirk he just sent her way when she read it has to be just about the most adorable thing in the world- wait, _what_?

 **for:** Camsten Appreciation Day on Tumblr.

 **a/n:** aka the coffee shop au that nobody asked for (the one that I mentioned here). trying my hand at some present tense writing. this entire fic is kinda sucky and pretty much everyone is OOC at some point. oh well.

Kirsten's always been a fan of coffee- tea is too weak and not nearly flavorful enough for her, and there's really not that many other ways to get an energy in the morning other than 5-Hour Energy. So, yeah, most mornings she's not all that functional until she's sipping at her precious drink- two creams, one sugar. It's gotten her through too many late-night study sessions and essay writings, and now she might be a bit overly dependent on it, but it's not like she really cares.

There's this little cafe on Sepulveda, only a five minute walk from campus. It's a hole-in-the-wall kind of place, with not all that many customers in total, but they're all regulars. Kirsten is one of the only college students who frequents it- there are more than a few Starbucks' on campus, after all, with lower prices and more space. But the Blue Door Coffeehouse is better in Kirsten's opinion; their coffee is richer, and their ingredients and pastries are all homemade and organic. She's willing to pay a few extra dollars if it means she gets a better breakfast, and that first sip of her regular drink makes it all worth it- it's like energy burns it way down her throat, letting a warm, almost homey, feeling seep into her veins.

So, yeah, Kirsten takes her coffee very seriously, and as such, expects others to do the same.

Which is why that god-forsaken, annoying, smirking, antagonizing, absolute _ass_ of a barista irritates her so much.

Cameron, his name tag reads. His name is Cameron and _goddammit_ the sound that name should not be sending shivers down her spine (she plays it off as the needles of her pure hatred for him pricking her back. If someone heard her describe it, they'd know just as well as she does that that's a lie.)

He's just about the most irritating person she's ever had the misfortune of meeting in her entire life. Not only is he learning to become a neuroscientist (an overly pretentious subject, in Kirsten's opinion) and is at the top of pretty much all his classes, he acts like a smug bastard about it. She can't even ask for her bagel with butter instead of cream cheese without him sneaking in a snide comment about his superior intelligence.

Not only that, but he is the _worst_ at writing down the correct name on her to-go cups.

The first time she comes to the coffeehouse during his shift, they're moderately polite to each other, although Kirsten does accidentally let a bit of snark out. Apparently, he must take offense at her slightly rude remark ( _seriously_ \- what did he expect, she's a college student and it's an hour that ends in AM), because when her drink is ready, "Sparky" is called out instead of "Kirsten". When she looks up from her book just in time to hear the second barista say the name, she catches the smug smirk _Cameron_ sends her way.

Her eyes widen just a fraction, darting from the cup to Ass (as she has so pleasantly nicknamed him). The " _oh you better not have-_ " look on Kirsten's face is responded by the " _yes I did and it's not something I'll ever regret_ " expression on his.

And that's just the first time.

Over the course of the next two months, he's gone through a slew of nicknames, including "Buttercup," "Oda Mae," "Cupcake," and "Stretch." By now, the regulars who come in around the same time as her, as well as Ass's co-workers, have all realized what's going on. It's become something of a show, seeing each of their reactions, trying to guess where the day's nickname will come from, placing bets on who will get in the last word.

Of course, on the side, there's the betting pool for when the two will finally become an item, set up in a secluded corner of the staff room. Employees only.

One day, maybe a week or two pas the three month mark, Kirsten snaps. She has been _remarkably_ patient with this… this _ass_ (her mental nickname for him is incredibly accurate, in her opinion), but she has had it with him.

That day, she orders her regular drink, but this time instead of a bagel she asks for a cinnamon roll. She pays quickly, wanting to avoid a confrontation with _Cameron_ —even in her head, there's about a ton of contempt conveyed saying Ass' name. She was up until around three in the morning working on an essay that equals about half of her grade, and now all she wants is to get her caffeine and go.

But of course, he seems to be in an even more aggravating mood than usual, if that's even possible.

After exchanging glares with him, she goes and sits down at a table by the window, closing her eyes and resting her head on her folded arms until a ridiculous name is called. She's 100% sure that he's picking the wrong names just to get under her skin (there's no way he can mistake "Kirsten" for "Pork Chop"), but _dammit_ the little smirk he just sent her way when she read it has to be just about the most adorable thing in the world- wait, _what_?

Kirsten shakes her head. No. She did _not_ just think _anything_ remotely pleasant about _him_. Getting less than five hours of sleep is just damaging the functionality of her brain. That's it.

* * *

A week later, she steps into the Blue Door Coffeehouse at around 2 o'clock in the afternoon, this time with a (not that she would admit it) friend, Camille. It's not the first time they've come here together—they are roommates, after all, the fact that they frequent the same cafe isn't surprising.

The fact that Camille is sleeping with the coffee shop's Assistant Manager, Linus, also adds to the probability of her coming there.

Camille orders a white chocolate mocha and a ham and cheese croissant while Kirsten gets green tea and a scone—it's the afternoon, so their drinks are both decaf. Ass—sorry, _Cameron_ — doesn't seem to be working, to Kirsten's relief. He's practically always on the shift when she comes in, which irritates her to no end.

They go and sit down, choosing a table in the corner by a giant potted fern. A few minutes later, Linus appears, carrying their drinks and the plates with their food on a tray. After placing everything on their table, he pulls up a chair and sits down with them, breaking off a piece of Kirsten's scone and popping it into his mouth.

"Sooo… I noticed that _someone_ seemed disappointed when they didn't see their usual barista working…" he says teasingly.

Kirsten just raises an eyebrow at him, her cool facade masking the panic she feels inside. _Did I really seem disappointed? Wait, what the hell am I worried about? I wasn't disappointed, I was_ relieved _to to not see him._ "Shouldn't you be working?" she asks scathingly.

He waves his hand, dismissing her query. "I'm on break." Scooting his chair closer, he plops his elbows on the table and rests his chin on his hands. "You know, he's always requesting the early morning shifts, from 5 to 11… the timeframe when you always come here. And doesn't it seem _odd_ that he _voluntarily_ works that shift, when he always has either an 11:30 class right after or a class ending at midnight the night before?"

Camille and Linus both look her in the eyes and wiggle their eyebrows suggestively in unison, smirking.

Kirsten just rolls her eyes, choosing to ignore their crazy (from her point of view, at least) claims.

 _Does he really do that?_

* * *

Not two days later, Kirsten is walking back to her and Camille's shared house from a class when she bumps into someone. Literally. The binder she's holding goes flying and the books—they look like they're from the library, maybe—he's carrying tumble from his arms onto the sidewalk.

"Great!" She curses, letting out a few choice words not meant for pleasant company. Her binder is lying open on the road, some of the paper tucked into the side pockets are drifting gently to the ground, and everything she had with her is covered in scuff marks. "Thanks a lot, now I'm going to have to copy notes from someone else later." She holds up a ripped paper, covered in meticulous notes that are now illegible because of the many tears, and presents it to the person who knocked into her—oh great, it's Ass _._ _Oh, lucky me!_ she thinks.

Growling, she turns away from him and looks back at her binder. Stomping out onto the street, she's reaching down to pick it up when out of nowhere she's yanked by her outstretched hand back onto the sidewalk. A car careens past where she was standing less than a second ago and both she and her rescuer are panting, out of breath.

Eyes wide, she turns back to look at Ass— _Cameron_. He just saved her life, the least she can do is start mentally referring to him by his actual name.

His chest is heaving, and he's trying to catch his breath—he must have sprinted to reach her before she was hit by that car. "Y-you okay… Rocky?" He's still panting, and her now-trashed binder is lying forgotten in the street.

"Y-yeah." she stutters out, still kind of in shock. Noticing that he still has a grip on her wrist, she blushes and quickly pulls her hand away.

A minute later, when they've both recovered sufficiently and they've gathered up their respective things, Cameron's face gets that obnoxious know-it-all look. "Idiot! You know, you should really look where you're going before going out into the street. Cars can clearly," he gestures towards where she was almost run over, "Come out of nowhere!"

She snorts, eyes narrowing as she glares at him. "Yeah, like you're one to talk! You ran into me like you're practically blind!"

He glares. "For your information, I am wearing my contacts!"

She rolls her eyes, mentally filing away the information that he has bad eyesight (knowledge is power, after all). "Well, if you hadn't bumped into me, my binder would have been knocked over into the road and I wouldn't have almost been hit by a car. This is all _your_ fault."

" _I_ bumped into _you_?! Yeah, right!"

By now, they're yelling, their glares intense enough to practically burn a hole in concrete.

"Now who's the stupid one?!"

"I am studying to get a PhD in _neuroscience_! What are you doing, learning how to make mac 'n cheese from a box?—which is a completely unhealthy source of nutrition, not that you're unfamiliar with that sort of thing, you order a different sugar-coated pastry for breakfast every day of the week!"

"Says the guy who's asking for the shifts when _I_ show up at the coffee shop!"

"JESUS!" a loud voice yells out from behind them, snapping them out of their argument. The two college students turn around in unison, staring at the person in question.

It's an LAPD detective who frequents the Blue Door Coffeehouse, and who is particularly fond of their donuts. Kirsten thinks his name is Fisher, or something similar. "The whole world know that you are incredibly attracted to one another, except you apparently!" he continues.

"There's a betting pool at your work, Cameron, for when you'll get together! You calling her nicknames has become a tourist attraction! Kirsten, we can all see your little smile every time it's a new one! He knows your coffee order by heart, he just asks so you'll talk to him! Everyone is incredibly, irrationally invested in your romantic relationship. But right now, I live in the house right here," he points to the house they happen to be standing in front of, "And you are making my three-year-old daughter cry, so _I_. _Don't_. _Really. Care_. Take your argument, flirt fest, _whatever it is_ , somewhere else, and _GET_. _A_. _ROOM_."

With that, he storms off back inside what is (apparently) his house. Kirsten and Cameron are left in an awkward silence on the sidewalk. They stand there, shuffling around, neither really willing to be the first one to talk.

With a sigh, Cameron abruptly starts speaking. "I'll see you around, Princess." And he pushes gently past Kirsten, going where he had originally intended to before the whole mess happened.

* * *

Kirsten's in her room, typing away at her laptop while laying in bed. She's experimenting with a few new techniques of coding that her professor mentioned in class yesterday; semi-finals are coming up and she wants to be prepared for just about anything. She's got headphones on, and they're blasting music at a loud volume, so she doesn't here Camille knocking.

After about 10 seconds of waiting (Camille isn't known for her patience), she sighs and just lets herself in. When she jumps onto the bed, making it bounce, Kirsten finally looks up and takes off her headphones, pausing the music. When she doesn't immediately tell Camille to leave, the brunette takes it as a sign of acceptance and she tucks herself under the blonde's covers, snuggling into her bed.

"I hear that you met Cameron outside of the Blue Door and it got kind of explosive." she mentions after a few minutes of silence. Kirsten has gone back to typing, although she hasn't put her headphones back on, and at this she freezes.

"Yeah, well, apparently everyone could hear it, we were yelling so loud. We hate each other's guts, remember?" she finally answers, tapping away at the keys again.

Camille sighs. "Really? I mean, if someone—meaning me—asked you to list exactly what you hate about Cameron Goodkin, right here, right now, what would you say?"

Kirsten exhales, finally closing her laptop. She scoots forward and leans back again, so her head rests against her pillows. She stares up at the ceiling, thinking.

"I hate how calls me annoying nicknames. I hate how he's an arrogant ass. I hate how he acts like he's so much smarter than me, just because he's taking some neuroscience classes. I… I hate how his hair always looks like he just got out of bed. I hate how his stupid smirk sends shivers down my spine, I hate how his glasses make him look both incredibly nerdy and at the same time make my heart skip a beat, I hate that he's overall a very attractive person, _dammit_ _he's an ass I'm not supposed to be kind of in love with him!_ "

Camille's jaw drops, her eyes wide. Clearing her throat, she smirks. "I didn't realize you felt that… strongly about him."

Kirsten freezes. "Did I just…?" Her unspoken question weighs heavy in the air.

Camille pats her shoulder comfortingly, scooting out from under the covers and leaving Kirsten to think. "Yeah, Kirsten, you did."

The blonde promptly grabs a pillow and screams into it, as loud as she can. _Dammit._

* * *

It's two weeks later. Semi-finals are over, and everyone's kind of drifting in a state of pure happiness. But ever since that confession of sorts in front of Camille, Kirsten has been a complete and utter wreck inside. She hasn't stopping thinking about what she said, and it's kind of been driving her crazy.

Now that she's realized that she may or may not have feelings for one Cameron Goodkin, she's pretty much been avoiding the Blue Door Coffeehouse. She's even started going to Starbucks instead—she hates it, but she needs caffeine and she just can't stand to see _him_ right now.

Kirsten's walking down the street, heading to a bowling alley where she'll be meeting Camille and a few of her friends (Camille's, not Kirsten's). The brunette has been insisting that she get out and socialize, and this time, she finally agreed (there may have also been the extra incentive of free Nutella and Chinese food, but that's neither here nor there).

For the second time in as many weeks, she crashes into someone on the sidewalk—luckily this time neither was carrying anything. Kirsten looks up from where she's checking to make sure she wasn't hurt (she did land on concrete, after all) and realizes that _oh shit the exact guy I've been trying to avoid because I might be in love with him is the one that I just bumped into._

Once he sees Kirsten, his eyes narrow, irritation and what looks _hurt_ showing in them. "Honestly, you would think that after knocking someone to the ground when you didn't see them would be a good reason to get your eyesight checked. Clearly, you don't think the sam—"

Kirsten is kind of fed up now. She's been bottling up these crazy feelings for this ass in front of her for about _two_ _weeks_ now, and she just needs to let them _out_. She is tired of dealing with them but not talking about them, because they are just plain annoying.

Plus, she's also getting more and more irritated with Cameron the longer he's talking, and he just needs to _shut. Up._

And so she stops him from talking any longer in the only way she knows will probably work: by reaching up, and smashing her lips onto his.

The kiss clearly stuns him, as he's frozen for a few seconds before responding to it with the same enthusiasm she has.

As they kiss in the middle of the sidewalk, Kirsten thinks, _yeah, maybe I am supposed to be kind of in love with him._


End file.
